Afew months ago, the Christian Science Monitor ran a story about “extreme professions.” If you’re conjuring up a guy in a pinstripe suit shooting his snowboard into the blue off a ledge somewhere, well ... you’re close.
The story cites a recent Harvard Business Review analysis by Sylvia Ann Hewlett entitled, “Extreme Jobs: The Dangerous Allure of the 70 Hour Work Week.” Hewlett’s piece is but one in a volume of articles, essays, books, Web sites and blogs addressing the struggle with work/life balance which seems to permeate our profession.
Yet, while some in this debate cite a real threat to individual well-being, others see a lot of unnecessary hand-wringing. You may be among these folks. “After all,” you might say, “I love my work.”
Devoted legal blogger Stephanie West Allen has questioned this “one size fits all” work/life balance philosophy by citing, of all things, a “hot worm.” It seems that there is a species of worm that settles into the ocean depths near thermal vents, at temperatures that might kill other species. However, the worm has evolved not only to tolerate the conditions, but thrive in a world of abundant bacteria, its food source.
Allen notes that garden-variety worms (aptly named) could not survive in such an environment, but that certainly is not to say that scalding water is therefore wrong for all worms. Similarly, there are many lawyers who simply thrive in the high-pressure, aggressive, competitive, high-achieving, 70-plus-hour work week environment.
Hewlett notes that two-thirds of high-earning American professionals say they love their jobs. Further, in our present culture, we have come to romanticize this lifestyle. As she observes, “There’s something deep in our culture right now which really admires over-the-top pressure, over-the-top performance, over-the-top pay packages.”
The CSM article quotes New York cultural critic Catherine Ornstein, who says, “We’re not just in an age of extreme work, we’re in an age of extreme culture.” Ornstein pointed to the popularity of extreme sports, extreme parenting and extreme reality shows. (“Extreme parenting?” Whatever that is, it doesn’t sound exactly healthy. But that’s a discussion for another day and another column.) The practice of law fits neatly into this paradigm.
So, are those among us who decry the erosion of life balance just whining about a culture that doesn’t include them ... and may, perhaps, be leaving them behind? Are they judging the hard chargers (high achievers) for missing something they themselves do not feel they are missing? Well, in the hallowed tradition of the law, I might answer that question with the universal, two-word lawyer’s response.
It depends.
As a lawyer and marital therapist, I’d answer the question with a few of my own. Do you live alone? Are you a partner or spouse? Do you have children?
Recently, Howard Stern divorced after 21 years of marriage. His explanation? “I’m a crummy spouse. ... I think I’m married to my career. ... My wife can’t be in a relationship alone.” Oh well, I guess, easy come, easy go, if you’re “married to your career.” A recent study by the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers noted that “workaholism” is one of the top four reasons for marital breakup.
National authorities on marriage, from our own John Gottman, Ph.D. at U.W., to James Doherty, Ph.D., Michelle Weiner-Davis, MSW, and a host of others, repeatedly cite time as a key ingredient of a healthy marriage. I can guarantee anyone who is reading this column and feels some estrangement from their spouse or partner that, at some point in the relationship, you started spending less time together. By contrast, marital therapists frequently advise spouses who say their marriages are “dead” to start spending more time together (as part of a greater plan of repair).
Of course, this advice may be more profound — and poignant — when it comes to the children. After all, there is only one first step, first word, first fall or learning to do something for the first time. While you may be able to repair and rekindle a marriage that has been neglected for a number of years (with patience, effort and good will), you’ll never be able to reclaim your kids’ childhood. When it’s gone, it’s gone. No amount of regret or repayment with money or vacations can bring it back.
I think the problem with our work culture is that we are so hotly encouraged to make short-term personal sacrifices in the interest of being a “star” in our professional lives — and rewarded handsomely in the currency of the realm — that the “still, small voice” of moderation, of family, is simply drowned out. Certainly, one might respond that their spouse seems happy with the bargain. Maybe he/she has a career of their own and you are wedded to each other and the fast track. While this may be true, I wonder when the last time was that you actually had a conversation about this. How much about the other person and your relationship have you come to assume over time without checking in?
At a workshop in December, I heard Weiner-Davis describe the “walkaway spouse.” As a divorce lawyer, I found the profile chilling in its applicability to situations I’ve seen many times over the years. While usually this describes the woman in the relationship, because she is, as a general rule, the minder of the relationship, it may apply to men as well.
The scenario begins with one spouse feeling that the other has drifted away (among other things, it may be into work). He/she needs more from the relationship and voices that need. It may come across as a request. More frequently, it may be expressed as criticism. If the distant spouse responds positively and adjusts, the relationship remains solid. However, if the errant spouse retains their present course (Howard Stern continues with his 100-plus-hour work week), the complaints become more pointed and bitter.
This drives “Howard” away further. One day, something shifts inside the “relationship minder.” He/she simply says, inside, “I’m done.” Often, if it is the woman, she will say to herself, “I’m gone — but I’m going to wait until (I go back to school and get my degree) (our youngest is out of the house) (I find someone else) (I get a job) before I’m out the door.”
Yet, with the internal decision, comes a kind of peace, and the desire to change the other spouse and heal the marriage seems to dissolve. The complaining and criticism stops. Life seems more placid in the home. Howard thinks, “Wow, I don’t know what happened, but this is great! Life around home is good. The criticism has stopped. I don’t know what happened, but I like it!” So, Howard blithely waltzes through his 100-plus-hour work weeks, comes home to relative peace and quiet, until one day, his partner says, “I’m gone.” He, of course, will respond with something like, “WHAT???!!! How can that be? Things have been so well lately.” Of course, all that really has been good is that the criticism has stopped.
This moment marks a real crossroads in many marriages. The person who is being left, suddenly, for the first time, realizes that they are right on the cusp of losing something vital in their lives. They may go buy every self-help book they can get their hands on. They may go into therapy. They may actually (and legitimately) start to act differently. But by then, it’s too late. The leaver has long ago left in his/her heart and what may have been an ember to be fanned back to life at one point is nothing but ash. It’s done.
While there are many personal risks that attend the abandonment of work/life balance in our lives, the sustenance of our closest personal relationships is perhaps the greatest. It’s a struggle, to be sure. A solid relationship doesn’t have the glamour of a high-powered, high-income job with a multitude of perks. If we’re young, we always think that we have time to make amends. Experience teaches, however, that such assumptions are often flawed. Maybe this is where the work/life balance question has its greatest urgency and poignancy.
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Joe Shaub is a family lawyer and mediator. He is also a licensed marriage and family therapist with offices in Seattle and Bellevue. He has conducted law firm workshops and retreats for the past 12 years. He can be reached at (206) 587-0417 or through his Web site: shaublaw.com.
